


Take Your Heart Out (Instead of Living in Your Head)

by castielanderson



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Drug Addiction, F/M, M/M, Minor Character Death, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-04-21
Packaged: 2018-01-20 08:06:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1503059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castielanderson/pseuds/castielanderson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Cas make a pact when they're twenty-six and twenty-seven years old; if neither of them are settled by age forty, they'll have to settle for each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take Your Heart Out (Instead of Living in Your Head)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cassiewrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassiewrites/gifts).



> catstiel asked you:  
> kendall do u still do prompts well i just had an idea that u should write. ok ok ok so prompt: dean and cas have been friends for a long time and one night in their twenties they decided that if theyre still single by the time theyre 40 they'll get together/get married. and now it's dean's 40th birthday and they're still both single. BOOM

**CAS: 27; DEAN: 26**

It’s two in the morning, and the two of them are finally starting to understand what it means when silence is loud.   The only thing audible is the breaths they share between them, and the rustling of the sheets when they move to get just the slightest bit more comfortable. 

Dean sighs, slinging an arm over Cas’ waist and nestling his head on Cas’ bare chest.

“Dean,” Cas says, voice barely a whisper.

“Yeah, Cas?’

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For this night,” Cas says with a soft smile.  He looks down at Dean, and even in the darkness, his eyes sparkle with happiness. 

“Of course, Cas,” Dean replies.  “I enjoyed it, you know.”

“I just – I worry,” Cas says.

“About what?” Dean asks, eyebrows creasing together with curiosity and worry.

“What this means for the future,” Cas replies.  He looks away from Dean, instead fixing his gaze on the ceiling.  “You and I both know we’re not ready for a serious relationship.  Not with each other, at least.  But I still – “

He stops, heaving a deep and somewhat frustrated breath.

“What, Cas?” Dean urges, hand moving up slightly.  His fingers splay across Cas’ chest, soft and gentle.

“I wish we were.  I wish we could make this work.”

Silence hangs heavy, the two of them trapped by Cas’ words.  Dean feels the same way, and they both know.  They’ve always been on the same pages about everything, especially things like this.  It’s never been hard to reach an agreement, but it’s difficult to know that they’ll never push, never fight, never argue for what they want.

“We could make a deal,” Dean says, and it sounds crazy in his head.  He knows it’s not going to sound anymore sane out loud, but a part of him needs to say it, needs it out there as an option. And Cas doesn’t have to agree; he can deny it, but Dean needs to take the chance.

Cas looks at him peculiarly.  “A deal?”

“A pact,” Dean clarifies. 

“A pact,” Cas repeats, sounding skeptical.

“Look,” Dean starts.  “You and I both agree that we can’t be in a relationship now, but what about the future?  Let’s say – when we’re thirty, and we haven’t found anyone yet, we’ll try to be in a relationship?”

“Thirty’s too soon,” Cas sighs.  “I don’t know how much I’ll change in three or four years.  Not with my career choice.  It’ll be much the same.”

“Forty?” Dean suggests, though something in him fears that’ll be too long.  He says, mostly for his own benefit, “If it’s meant to be, ten years won’t make a difference.”

Cas takes awhile to think about it, and Dean lies in agony. 

“Okay,” he says at last.  “If we’re not settled down by age forty, we’ll try.”

Dean smiles, and he can’t help but stretch upward and plant a hearty kiss on Cas’ lips.  Cas reacts eagerly, taking Dean’s face gently between his hands.  They’re smiling and breathless when they pull away.

“We better make this night last,” Dean sighs into Cas’ mouth.  “We’ve got fourteen years to wait before the next.”

“Who said one-night-stands were out of question?” Cas shoots back with a sly grin.

Dean chuckles.  “A good point, but I still think I’d like you to wreck me tonight.”

“No problem there,” Cas replies, leaning down into another, rougher kiss.

_

**CAS: 32; DEAN: 31**

“Pass me another, would ya, Cas?”

“And me,” Garth chimes in.

“Hey, Cas – “ Sam cuts in, but after Cas glares at him, he lets out a hearty laugh, holding up his half-filled bottle.  “I’m just joking.”

Dean cracks open the bottle, and the sound is music to his ears.  It’s been so long since he had a proper guys’ night, and it feels amazing to be kicking back and relaxing with the people he’s missed so much the past few years.

“Alright, guys,” Benny says.  “Think Dean’s drunk enough yet?”

Dean’s eyebrows shoot up, and he chokes a little as he takes a drink.  “Drunk enough for what?”

“To spill,” Garth says.  “You never fucking talk about Lisa.  You used to have no problem gushing about other girls, but now that you’ve got one who might actually want you for a lifetime, you won’t talk about her.”

“Yeah, well – “ Dean starts, then cuts off.

He has a reason, of course he does, but the other guys don’t need to know why.  They don’t need to know why he doesn’t talk about their dates, or what they do when they get home, or why he never really told anyone he’d move in with Lisa until months after it happened, or why he never gushes about his relationship with Ben and how much he loves the kid, or why he doesn’t tell them he and Lisa have actually been thinking about a lifetime.

They don’t need to know the reason he keeps so quiet is because he doesn’t want to flaunt it all in front of Cas.  He doesn’t want to see the hurt and crushed look on Cas’ face.  He doesn’t want to remember all the nights they spent together when Cas’ eyes flash with regret.  He doesn’t want to feel that hardened part of his heart beat again, throbbing and pounding, desperate to reach the surface.

He looks to Cas now, however, and he doesn’t see devastation.  He sees a little bit of hurt, but mostly he sees understanding.  A moment of approval passes between them, and Dean takes that as a nudge.

“What – what do you guys want to know?” Dean asks, letting out a small belch.  “Excuse me,” he adds as the guys chuckle.

“Well, it’s been what – like two years?” Garth asks.

“When are ya’ll gonna get hitched is what we want to know,” Benny blurts out.  “You’ve been living together.  Ben is practically your son.  I’m sure your sex life is fantastic – “  Dean blushes furiously.  “So – when’s the wedding, man?”

Dean heaves a deep breath, letting his shoulders droop.  “I don’t know, guys,” he sighs.  “I mean – I’d like to – I’d _really_ like to propose, but – “

“But what?” Sam asks, prodding his shoulder.

Dean looks to Cas, inhaling a shuddering breath.

“I don’t know,” he says, shaking his head.  “I’m just too nervous, I guess.  What if she says no?”

The guys laugh.

“Dean, everyone worries about that.  But you’re never gonna know if you don’t ask,” Garth says, clapping him on the shoulder.

“But she’ll say yes,” Benny says, taking a swig.

“You think?” Dean asks, feeling a sudden rush of butterflies in his stomach.

“I’m sure of it.”

Everyone looks around as Cas speaks for the first time.  His eyes are slightly glazed, but Dean tells himself it’s the alcohol.  As Garth takes away his hand, Cas offers his, patting Dean’s knee.

“Go for it, Dean.”

_

**CAS: 32; DEAN: 31**

Dean’s eyes are gritty, and they feel no better when he rubs them with his fingers.  He’s been awake for over twenty-four hours, and he just wants to go home and sleep.  Unfortunately he’s still got about five pages left of paperwork to fill out.

Sixteen hours ago, he got a call that Sam had got caught up in a drug bust.  He didn’t have anything on his person, but there were traces of heroin in his system.  He’d been taken into custody, and Dean had been forced to give over a large amount of savings to bust his brother out and now put him into a rehabilitation center.  Lisa’s not going to be happy that so much of their money has just been given away, but Dean doesn’t care.  Sam is his brother, and if he needs help, Dean’s going to give it.

The car ride back home had been nothing but fighting, and once Dean had hauled Sam’s ass inside, he broke down.  Sam was taken to a room for detox, and Dean had crumpled to the floor in front of the receptionist’s desk and cried.  It had taken him a total of fifteen minutes to collect himself and shake off the couple of nurses who had crowded around him and tried to comfort him.

Now he’s been sitting here for at least two hours, trying to get the funds and the legal approval to put Sam in this center.  He’s almost to the end, and he’s ready to collapse again, this time from exhaustion.

When he signs his name for the final time, he breathes a sigh of relief, letting his head fall back and his eyes close.  He collects all the paper and makes his way slowly up the receptionist.  She takes them with a bittersweet smile, thanking him.

“We’ll be in contact within the next few days,” she promises.  “Thank you again, Mr. Winchester.”

Dean lays a hand down on the counter, approaching her cautiously.  “Is there any way I could say goodbye to my brother one last time?”

She shakes her head sadly.  “Patients aren’t allowed visitors during detox.  I’m sorry.”

He nods solemnly, pressing his lips together.  “It’s fine.  I understand.  Goodbye.”

“Goodbye, Mr. Winchester.”

He heads out the door with a heaviness in his heart.  He feels like his legs are made of lead as he drags himself back to his car.  He doesn’t want to go home.  He doesn’t want to face Lisa’s frustration or Ben’s curiosity.  He doesn’t want to face Bobby’s calls or Cas’ worry.  He just wants to disappear.

The drive home simultaneously feels like it takes years and only seconds.  The light in the living room is still on when he pulls into the driveway, but every other light is off.  It’s nearly four in the morning, and Dean knows that Lisa doesn’t have to work today.  There’s no reason she should be up this late, or this early. 

He opens the door slowly, stepping inside as quietly as he can.  He shrugs out of his leather jacket and hangs it up in the closet, barely breathing.

Lisa is waiting for him on the couch, arms crossed and eyes deadly.  Dean wishes he could melt right into the floor.  He’s not ready to face this right now.  He feels so emotionally volatile.  He’s afraid that any matter of prodding will wreck him.

“Where have you been?” Lisa asks, and her voice matches her eyes.

“I told you,” Dean replies.  “Sam was in trouble.”

“You’ve been gone for almost seventeen hours,” Lisa says incredulously. 

“He was in another state, Lisa,” Dean replies tiredly.  “He was in Iowa, and I had to drive him all the way back here.”

“Then where is he?” Lisa asks testily, raising an eyebrow.

“The treatment center,” Dean replies.  “He’s in rehab.  It was the only way I could get him out without any charges.  If I brought him straight there.”

Both Lisa’s eyebrows shoot up.  “Dean – “

“I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about it first, but you have to understand – “

“Treatment isn’t cheap, Dean,” Lisa says.

“I know that, but – “

“So you just threw your brother in there without even asking me?   What if you bankrupted us, Dean?” Lisa asks, voice steadily rising.  “What then?”

It’s Dean’s turn to raise an eyebrow.  “You and I both make plenty of money, Lisa.  Look, if it were me – “

“If it were you,” Lisa interrupts.  “You and I wouldn’t be together.  I wouldn’t allow that much toxicity around Ben.  You’re damn lucky I let Sam anywhere near him.”

“Lisa,” Dean says, voice soft, expression devastated.  “He’s my brother – “

“I don’t care,” Lisa says matter-of-factly.  “Ben’s my son.”

“What are you saying?” Dean asks, throwing his arms up in surrender.  “What do you want me to do – let my brother kill himself?”

Lisa sighs heavily, shaking her head.  “I don’t know what I want, Dean,” she says, standing up.  “But it’s not this.”  She stalks away without a backward glance, storming up the stairs to their bedroom.

Dean takes a step backward, biting his lip.  He runs a hand through his hair and then curls his fingers into a fist, pulling at the greasy strands.  His throat is closing up and his lungs feel like they’ve stopped working.  He can’t breathe, can’t speak, can’t even cry anymore.  Too much has happened today, and he can’t keep up.

With an ache settled in his chest, Dean trudges over the couch.  He drops onto the cushions and lies down on his side.  Within minutes he’s asleep, taking a momentary escape from the hell he’s been thrust into.

_

**CAS: 32; DEAN: 31**

The two of them are silent for nearly a week.  The only talk in polite terms with each other, and refuse to share a bed.  Dean can see the tension eating away at Ben, and he hates it.  He hates that he continues to disappoint everyone around him.

At the end of the week, long after Ben has gone up to bed, Lisa approaches him.

“Dean, we need to talk.”

He expects an apology.  He expects her to tell him she understands and that she shouldn’t have tried to make him choose between her and Sam.   He expects her to say she’s willing to make something of a compromise.  He expects them to sit down and plan everything out and spend at least an hour or so having makeup sex.

What he doesn’t expect is for her to blurt out, “Ben and I are leaving.”

Dean doesn’t get it at first.  He blinks, thoroughly confused.  “Leaving?  Where?  For how long?”

“We’re going to my mother’s house,” Lisa says.  “And we’re going to stay there until we can find a new place of our own.”

Dean lets those words sink in, and then he starts to understand.  “Wait, wait – you’re leaving me?  You’re leaving – just like that?”

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Lisa says, dropping down next to him on the couch.  “Honestly, it’s been a long time coming.  You’ve come and gone for so many years at the expense of your family.  And I understood Dean – I did for the longest time.  It just took me until now to realize you didn’t count Ben and I as your family.”

“Lisa – “ Dean starts, but he can’t finish, because he doesn’t know what to say.

He doesn’t know how to explain that all of his life he’s been so afraid to get close to people.  Since his mom died, since his father killed himself, since Sam left for college, since Cas drifted away.  He’s been so afraid to form relationships like the one he has – or had – with Lisa and Ben.

But he wanted to be a family.  From the bottom of his heart he wanted to be a husband, to be father, to have a family of his own.  A spouse to love, a child to raise, even a pet to adopt – he wanted all of that, but he was so goddamn afraid.

“Lisa, I’m sorry,” is what he settles on.  “I’m sorry I couldn’t be what you needed.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Lisa says, and she leans in to press a kiss to Dean’s forehead.  “Most of our things have been packed.  They’re in Ben’s room.  We’ll leave you the furniture and everything, but we’ll take most of our portable belongings.”

“When are you going?” Dean asks, and the words get caught in his throat.

“We’re heading out in the morning.”

Dean nods.  “Can we sleep together tonight – just sleep?”

Lisa nods.

And they do, and it’s heartbreaking.  Dean feels like every part of him shatters throughout the night.  He gets only forty-five minutes of sleep, and in the morning, he watches with aching bones as Lisa and Ben drive away.

Once they’re out of sight, Dean digs in Baby’s glove compartment until he finds it –

Lisa’s engagement ring.

He had a night out planned that next weekend.  He was going to do it.  He was going to propose.  Even with everything so heavy between them, he was confident.  He was going to show his dedication once and for all, and yet he still let her slip between his fingers.

Back inside, Dean makes a call.

“Hello?” Cas answers on the second ring.

“Cas, I need you right now,” Dean breathes, voice shaking.

“Dean?” Cas asks worriedly.  “What’s the matter?”

“I need you to come over here.  Lisa and Ben left.”

_

**CAS: 35; DEAN: 34**

Cas has always been an early bird, waking up at the crack of dawn to go running before he comes back to shower.  He’ll eat a hearty breakfast of something that Dean would probably find disgusting and far too vegan for his tastes, and he’ll read the paper down to every last word.

Today, however, he doesn’t show his face until after noon.  He drags himself out of Dean’s guest room and collapses in the recliner across the room.  Dean ‘s sitting on the couch, wishing Cas would have sat down next to him, wishing Cas would have rested his head on Dean’s shoulder and held onto him for comfort.

Three days ago, Dean had gotten a call from Anna, Cas’ sister.  Cas couldn’t talk, he could hardly breathe according to her.  Just hours before, their brother, Gabriel, had been involved in a fatal car accident.  Cas hadn’t said a word since they found out, and Anna was extremely worried for his well-being.  He’d already started isolating himself, and Anna had called Dean in hopes to get Cas to open up before he’d completely shut down.

Three days, and Cas hasn’t said anything about his feelings to Dean.  He’s spent most of his time in solitude, reading, watching television, listening to music – anything he can do to try to take his mind of the present.

Dean’s tried conversation, he’s tried physical comfort, he’s tried pushing and prodding, but Cas just won’t budge.  Now he’s stewing in guilt, knowing Anna’s counting on him to help Cas out while she takes the reins on the funeral and other arrangements, but he can’t even do that.

“I made waffles this morning,” Dean says, and Cas jumps a little at the sound of his voice.  “I can heat some up for you if you want.”

“No,” Cas says, rubbing his fingers against his temple.  “I’ll take coffee if you don’t mind.”

“Black?” Dean asks, sighing slightly, and cursing internally when it’s audible.

Cas nods.

They head into the kitchen, and Dean warms up what was left of the pot and sets in front of Cas with a tentative grin.  Cas takes it carefully, giving a quiet word of thanks before taking a sip.  He grimaces just slightly, but drinks on.  Dean’s filled with visions of the night before – of Cas downing a six pack and passing out on the bathroom floor, of Dean carrying him to bed and ignoring the smell of vomit.  As he watches Cas now, he wonders how their lives managed to fall apart as terribly as this.

“I’m going to run to the store,” Dean says suddenly, unable to take the silence any longer.  “Do you need anything?”

“No,” Cas says quietly.

Dean heaves another sigh and makes to leave, but the ache in his heart throbs terribly and he stops in the doorway.

“Cas?”

Cas doesn’t even look at him.  “What?”

Dean feels like he could shatter right there, drop to the floor in a million pieces.

“Nothing,” he says, then backtracks again.  “I just wish there was something more that I could do.”

Cas freezes, but doesn’t dare meet Dean’s eyes.  Silence passes between them like a storm, and Cas straightens up in his chair before taking a deep breath.

“I know you do, Dean,” he says quietly, still without looking at him, “and I know you’re concerned about me, but I – I don’t want you to.  I’ll be okay, Dean.  I will.”

Dean laughs bitterly.  “Somehow, I doubt that, but I can see you don’t want me to push, so –“ he holds his hands up in surrender.  “God forbid.”  He huffs before turning around, and immediately regrets it.  He’s grown so weary of trying to be there for Cas when he refuses to comply, but that doesn’t mean Cas deserves to be kicked when he’s down.

A bar stool grates against the tiled floor, and Dean turns to find Cas walking swiftly out of the kitchen.

“Cas!” Dean calls after his receding figure.

Only silence follows, punctuated several seconds later by the slam of a door.

Dean grimaces, and his heart throbs with guilt.  He’s a lost a mother, father, potential wife, and son.  One would figure Dean could be at least _somewhat_ sensitive in this kind of situation, but no.  He has to fuck this up too.

_

**CAS: 35; DEAN: 34**

After the funeral, Cas moves in with Anna.  He’s going to start seeing a therapist, because they’re scared his drinking will get out of hand, and/or he might potentially hurt himself.  Anna wants to keep an eye on him.  She can’t lose another brother, and Dean just can’t lose anyone else he cares about.

They pack up his things in the guest room in complete silence.  They don’t speak until they arrive at Anna’s and haul everything inside.  Dean sets Cas’ suitcase down in entrance, and looks to him for assurance.

Cas’ eyebrows are creased when he looks at Dean, and his eyes glisten with wetness.  Without a second’s hesitation, he throws himself into Dean’s arms and hugs him tightly.  Cas buries his face in Dean’s neck, and Dean rubs his thumb back and forth over Cas’ shoulder blade.

“Cas, I’m sorry,” Dean whispers.  “I’m so sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Cas breathes, lifting his head up just slightly, “but, thank you.”

They pull apart, and Dean keeps a tender grip on the side of Cas’ neck.  “Please,” he begs, “take care of yourself.  And don’t ever hesitate to call me.  I’m here, Cas.  I promise.”

Cas nods.  “I promise, too.  I’ll call you.”

He never does.

Weeks pass, they turn into months, and Dean never hears directly from Cas.  He and Anna speak on the phone.  They go out to lunch just a few times, but they have to be careful.  They don’t want Cas to know they’re watching him so carefully, or that they’re talking about him like this behind his back.  They just want him to heal.

It’s a rainy Tuesday five months after the move when Anna and Dean sit down to lunch together at their usual spot.  Cas is in a therapy appointment, so they have time.

“I wish there wasn’t a confidentiality rule sometimes,” Anna sighs, shrugging out of her jacket.  “Cas never talks to me.  Not unless it’s really bad, and I catch him sobbing like he’s going to die.”

Dean’s gut twists nervously.  Sometimes he doesn’t really know why they do this over lunch; neither of them ever feel up to eating.  “But his therapist will tell you, right?  If there’s a danger of him ki – hurting himself, she’ll tell you?”

“She’s supposed to,” Anna says, “but sometimes I don’t know.  Like – what kind of behavior will it take for her to talk to me?  Will I have to wait until he tells her he’s got a plan, or whatever?  I just want to know if he’s okay.”

“Me, too,” Dean sighs.  “Me, too.”

Two weeks later they sit down again, and Anna is abnormally silent.  Dean wants to ask the moment he catches a glimpse of the look on her face, but he can’t.  He waits until she brings it up.  They make small talk for awhile, and it’s only once their food has arrived that she blurts it out.

“Cas is leaving.”

Dean drops his fork.  “What?”

“Cas is leaving,” Anna repeats.  “He’s – he’s taking an indefinite vacation, cleared by his therapist so he can find some peace of mind.”

“Where is he going?” Dean asks, swallowing past the giant lump in his throat.

“Wherever he wants,” Anna sighs.  “He’s starting in Europe.”

Dean takes a deep breath and presses his hands hard against his mouth.  “Why?” he asks.  “What the hell is planning to do?”

“Education,” Anna answers with air quotes.  “He wants to learn all he can about different methods of teaching.  Apparently, he’s been planning this for awhile, but it’s only now that his therapist thinks he’s mentally sound enough to be on his own.”

“You’re not going with him?” Dean asks, startled.

Anna shakes her head, and Dean notices the pink rings around her eyes.  “He won’t let me.  He wants to be alone.”

“Fuck,” Dean hisses.

“I know,” Anna says, voice barely above a whisper.  “But his therapist says he’s okay, and there’s really nothing else I can do but hope that if things get bad again, he won’t – he won’t take advantage of the freedoms in Europe.  He won’t – won’t do anything stupid.”

Dean stabs angrily at his food.  “If he does, I’ll fucking kill him.”

“I think that defeats the purpose,” Anna replies, and Dean wishes with everything inside him he could laugh.

_

**CAS: 40; DEAN: 39**

Dean doesn’t know Cas is back in town until Garth calls him and asks how Cas is doing.  For a moment, Dean wonders if Garth is actually as stupid as he looks. 

“Why would I know?” Dean asks.  “He’s off God knows where, like he has been for the past five years.”

“No, he’s n – “ Garth pauses.  “You don’t know?”

Dean blinks, a sense of panic falling over him.  “I don’t know what?”

“Cas got back over Christmas.  He’s back at Anna’s place.”

Dean doesn’t even say goodbye.  He abruptly hangs up on Garth and dashes outside to his car.  He drives like a maniac across town, taking every turn like he’s racing for his life (and he kind of is).   It feels just the slightest bit surreal when Anna’s house comes into view.  He hasn’t been there in so long.  He and Anna have kept in contact, but without Cas it’s been hopeless.  They lost real touch about three years back, and have only exchanged words on holidays and birthdays.

His car grinds to a halt on the street, and it takes a minute for the engine to stop roaring.  They must know he’s here by the noise of it, but he can’t bring himself to get up and go to the door.

It’s been five years.

Five years, and Dean suddenly realizes with a rush that he doesn’t even know what Cas looks like anymore.  His head could be shaved, or his hair could be as long as Sam’s.  He probably has different glasses, different clothes.  He’s probably tanner if he went around the _entire_ fucking world.  Last he heard, Cas was in the Middle East, but that was ten months ago.

What if Cas isn’t the same?  What if he doesn’t even want to see Dean?  What if he doesn’t care?  What if - ?

Dean stops himself, mid-thought. 

There’s no use worrying himself like this if he’s not going to at least try.  It’s been five years, for God’s sake.  Cas isn’t going to have _nothing_ to say.

Dean closes his eyes and pulls the keys from the ignition.  His stomach twists with knots and his chest feels tight.  But he’s not going to chicken out.  His car’s been here for at least five minutes.  If he leaves now he’ll look like a major jackass.

He exits his car with a creak of the driver’s door.  He walks slowly up the entrance, taking everything in.  Anna’s house still looks the same, though the paint is a little worn.  But the same car is parked in the garage, and she still has that ugly orange welcome mat.  Here’s hoping the people inside aren’t too drastically different.

The sound of the doorbell takes him through a dozen different memories, but none of them prepare him for the moment Anna answers the door and Dean can see Cas on the couch behind her.  None one says anything.  Anna lets out a small intake of breath, and Cas looks up.  Then it’s like time slows.  Cas hauls ass to the door, and Anna backs away just in time for Cas to throw his arms around Dean’s neck. 

“I’m sorry,” he says the moment they break away.  “I didn’t know how to – didn’t know what to say – it’s been – “

“Long,” Dean supplies, smiling despite himself.  “Way too long.”

They let go of each other awkwardly and take a step back.  Dean tucks his hands into his pockets, looking Cas up and down.  His hair’s a little longer, a little messier, but Dean likes it.  His glasses are new, more sleek and modern, and his clothes are extremely similar, though a bit more fashion-forward.  The best thing, however, is the smile on his face.  It’s bright, and infectious, and Dean doesn’t know if he’s ever seen Cas so happy.

“I – um, it’s good to see you, Cas,” Dean says.  “We – God, we need to catch up.”

“Are you busy?” Cas asks.  “I mean, we could – we could go for coffee.”

“No, I’m – I mean I’m not busy,” Dean says hurriedly.  “Coffee sounds good.”

_

**CAS: 40; DEAN: 39**

Cas still takes it black.  Sugar and cream weren’t always guaranteed the places he traveled.  It became a staple to him.  Dean on the other hand needs a bit of sugar for it to kick in.

“So,” Dean begins, taking a sip.  “How are you?  I mean – how are you, really?”

“Good,” Cas replies, and then laughs a little.  “I mean, I’m doing really well, Dean.  I’ve learned a lot, and I think I’ve found some peace within myself at last.”

“That’s good,” Dean says, nodding.  “That’s really good Cas.” 

He wants to reach across the table and takes Cas’ hand in his own, but he doesn’t.  It’s been five years.  Boundaries grow in that kind of time.

“I had some trouble at first,” Cas admits.  “I couldn’t really get things going, and I – well, there’s no easy way to say it.  I ended up in the hospital for awhile.”

Dean’s heart stops momentarily, but the fact that Cas is still here, still alive keeps it going.

“Anna was furious, of course,” he sighs.  “I had convinced her that I would be fine, and immediately betrayed her trust.  She came to visit me, but I made her promise not to tell anyone back home.  That’s why – that’s why you’ve been in the dark this whole time, Dean.  I’m sorry.”

He meets Dean’s eyes, looking truly remorseful.

Dean brushes it off, shaking his head and waving his hand.  “Don’t, Cas,” he says.  “I only care that you’re safe and happy.  Don’t worry about me.”

Cas continues then, telling Dean about all of his travels and the people he met.  Dean bites his tongue and doesn’t tell Cas much.  He specifically doesn’t talk about how he discovered the addiction gene in himself through alcohol, as well as the many AA meetings he was forced into in Cas’ absence.

Though they’ve finished their drinks, Cas still keeps the conversation going by saying, “So, how many weeks until your birthday?”

Dean blushes and attempts to cover a smile.  “Three weeks.”

Cas sighs and leans back, putting his hands behind his head.  “How does it feel?” he asks.  “Another decade older?”

Dean shakes his head, laughing slightly.  “I’m still twenty-six in my mind.”

Cas laughs too.  “You always have been.”  He leans forward again, bringing his arms down.  “Do you have any plans?”

Dean nods, smiling.  “Oh, yeah.  I’m having a classy as hell party, and I’m going to get _wasted_.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Cas asks, lifting an eyebrow.

“Hey,” Dean says.  “What better way to celebrate turning forty than to get completely shitfaced?  I’ve got limited time, Cas.  Who cares about spending it sober?”

“I hope you’re kidding,” Cas says, and he’s smirking, but something switches inside of Dean.  He’s suddenly acutely aware of how much they’ve kept from each other in the past five years.  He wonders vaguely if Anna said anything, if Cas knows just how much trouble Dean’s had.

Uncertainty washes over him, and he’s suddenly unprepared.  He thought he and Cas could just go right back to the way things were within a matter of a conversation, but there’s still so much left unsaid.  They’ve gone through experiences that deter them from syncing right back up, and Dean’s almost terrified for the future.

_

**CAS: 40; DEAN: 40**

Ten minutes into the party, Dean locks himself in the bathroom.   He’d heard the doorbell ring yet again, and Sam had gone to get it.  Hearing Cas’ voice, his stomach had filled to the brim with butterflies.  He used the nausea to get away, and now he’s sitting here, listening as the party continues.  He feels like a child, but somehow he doesn’t really care.

It’s been fourteen years, but some things don’t escape him.  Especially not promises he made on dark nights after slow, easy sex.  Especially not when said promise shows up back in his life after five years of absence.

Dean has no idea how to talk to Cas anymore.  He’s not the same person.  Or well, he is, but he isn’t.  Dean’s not sure what he can talk about anymore.  He’s not sure what he’s allowed to ask or answer.  And he _really_ doesn’t know how to react to this subject if Cas brings it up.  Dean’s certainly not going to, but he’s terrified Cas might – even in a joking manner.  Dean couldn’t handle it either way.

After a solid twenty minutes of solitude, there’s a knock on the bathroom door.  Dean jumps, but thankfully it’s only Sam.

“Dean, are you okay?” he asks.  “Jo told me you weren’t feeling well.”

“I’m fine,” Dean says.  “Just – just a little nauseous.  Probably nerves.”

There’s a moment of silence, and then Sam actually sounds concerned.  “Are you okay, Dean?”

“I don’t know,” Dean answers honestly with a sigh.

The doorknob jiggles slightly.  “Will you let me in for a sec?” Sam asks.

Reluctantly, with a noise of a frustration, he yanks open the door.  Sam barely has time to slip through before Dean slams it shut again, backing up against the frame.  Sam narrows his eyes, looking his brother up and down.

“Are you having a mid-life crisis already?”

Dean scowls.  “Cute, Sam.  Adorable, actually.”  He pushes off from the door, bracing himself now against the sink.  “No, I’m not having a mid-life crisis.  I’m having a crisis for an entirely different reason.”

“Is it about Cas?” Sam asks bluntly, and Dean turns around a slowly.

“How did you – ?”

“You haven’t been this stir-crazy in five years.”

“Yeah, but he was gone – “

“Please, Dean,” Sam says, holding up the palm of his hand.  “I’m not an idiot.”

Dean opens mouth to speak, then immediately closes it.  He looks away from Sam, eyes set on the brown shag rug beneath his stocking feet.  He counts out five little stitches before he lifts his head back up.

“I have no idea what I’m doing.”

Sam shakes his head and lays a hand on his brother’s shoulder.  “You don’t have to plan everything out, Dean.  Just let loose and quit worrying.  It’s been five years.  Enjoy yourself.”

Dean presses his lips together and nods, staring with purpose into Sam’s eyes.  “Yeah,” he says quietly.  “Yeah – you’re right, Sam.”

“I know I am,” Sam replies, giving Dean a push.  “Now go get ‘em.”

Dean stumbles out into the hallway and is timely gripped by a sense of panic.  The crowd downstairs thrums with energy and Dean takes a bit for himself, straightening up, dusting off his lapels, and taking a deep breath.

Most of the guests are in the kitchen/dining room.  However, Cas stays in the living room with a few other people, off on his own.  Dean sneaks up behind him, drink in hand and legs shaking ever so slightly.

“Browsing through my collection?” he asks, voice just a bit too quiet.

Cas smirks, looking around.  “You have quite the number of DVDs,” he remarks.  “And I’ve been meaning to tell you – I’ve finally caught up on _Star Trek_.”

“The reboot too?” Dean asks, and he knows his eyes are glowing with excitement.

Cas nods, smile growing.

Dean laughs; he can’t help it.  It’s right then and there that he knows not even five years is enough time to drive a wedge between the two of them.  Fourteen years?  The damage there is yet to be determined.

_

**CAS: 40; DEAN: 40**

As the room spins about him dangerously, Dean absently thinks that yeah, maybe forty is a bit too old for this kind of behavior.  He’s going to have a hell of a hangover in the morning.  However, as Cas litters his neck with kisses and runs his hands up underneath Dean’s shirt, he can’t find the will to care.

Cas just about throws Dean into bed and he sends up multiple prayers of thanks for all the wine that was available to them tonight.  He would have never grown a pair if it weren’t for that fifth glass.

“God, Cas,” he breathes.  “It’s been too long.”

Cas hums a response into Dean’s neck, and it sounds like an agreement.  Dean reaches up, grips Cas’ hair tightly between his fingers.  Cas wriggles just slightly, making enough room for him to begin to unbutton Dean’s shirt.  Cas is clumsy about it, and eager as he is, Dean hurries to do it himself.  

“Take your pants off, too,” Cas mumbles against his lips once he feels Dean’s hands around his neck.

Dean obliges, rushing to undo his zipper and kicking them off over the side of the bed.  Cas places a hand on Dean’s thigh and he opens his legs up without hesitation.  Cas’ fingers inch closer and closer and Dean rolls his head back in anticipation. 

It seems like years before Cas wraps his hand around the base of Dean’s cock, and when he does, Dean’s back arches so quickly he’s almost embarrassed.  Cas smiles against his lips and begins stroking him with ease.  Dean is paralyzed then, unable to even keep kissing as he falls back onto his elbows, lost in the feel of _Cas_.

Cas works him and works him, but his fingers grow tired quickly.  Dean tries to push himself up but Cas shakes his head.  He leans down to give Dean a quick kiss before saying, “I’m blowing you now.  Just relax.”

“Relax?” Dean mutters.

Cas huffs out a laugh, then subsequently takes Dean by surprise, pressing his lips to the head of Dean’s cock.  Dean arches his back again, less so this time, but his thighs grow shaky with the first contact Cas makes.  He licks from head to base, slowly, then cautiously begins to take Dean all the way inside his mouth.  Dean, meanwhile, cannot contain himself.  He pulls tightly on Cas’ hair, and whines escape his lips every other second.

“Fuck, Cas,” he hisses, and Cas just keeps going.

Dean thinks a ton of synapses in his brain just snap, cutting off al circuitry.  Everything goes blank, and all he can focus on is the way he’s writhing with pleasure underneath Cas.  The air in the room is chilled, and the hot wetness of Cas’ mouth creates such a whirlwind of sensations he can’t even begin to process it.  One hand slips away from Cas’ head, and he grips the sheets, fully on edge.  He comes just slightly without even blinking, and Cas pulls up for air.

“I’m not done,” he says.

Dean barely has a second to say, “What?” before Cas is back down, faster and wild.

Dean comes fully this time, thighs vibrating against Cas’ head.  The room spins again, but for entirely different reasons.  He takes a moment to just breathe, and that’s why he’s a little surprised when Cas crawls up the bed, completely unclothed.

“When did you – ?”

“Can I fuck you?” Cas asks without hesitation.

Dean nods, suddenly lost of the ability to speak. 

Cas grabs Dean’s thighs roughly, pushing them apart.  He leans down, taking Dean’s lips upon his own for a moment.  He runs his tongue along the inside of Dean’s teeth then pulls back slowly before sucking Dean’s bottom lip.  Once Dean’s fully engrossed again, Cas presses a single finger inside.  Dean breaks the kiss for just a moment to breathe deep.  A second finger comes quickly, and Dean grows inpatient.  He’s loose enough; he can’t wait any longer.

“Cas, please,” he whispers.  “God, I’m ready.”

“Lube?” Cas asks.

“Right,” Dean says, and once again – his mind draws a blank.  “Oh, shit.”

“Nightstand or bathroom?” Cas asks.

Dean thinks for a second.  “Nightstand,” he answers.  “Yeah, definitely nighstand.”

Cas throws himself towards the nightstand, reaching out and ripping the drawer open.  Sure enough, the lube sits right on top, and they both breathe sighs of relief.

Cas slathers on a generous amount, mostly concerned with going fast so they can get going.  However he has to stop once again and ask, “Condom?”

“Oh, forget it,” Dean growls.  “I don’t have any STDs.  I was tested last month. You?”

“Tested as soon as I got back in the states.  We’re good.”

“Then go ahead.”

Cas listens, pushing himself in as carefully as possible, but once he does, it’s hard to stay gentle.  Instinct takes over and he begins thrusting harder then he intends.  Dean, however, does not object.  In fact –

“Harder, Cas,” he pleads.  “Go harder.”

Cas doesn’t even question.  He thrusts and thrusts with as much power as he can muster.  He’s growing tired, but the small amounts of adrenaline keep him going.

“Cas, I’m going – “

He slows down, drawing his movements out.  They’re both right on the edge, and it will take just the slightest bit more to – 

Dean comes first, spilling out all over his stomach.  Cas is next, and his legs shake violently until he collapses on top of a Dean.  They lay for a just a second, staring into each other’s eyes.  It seems like years pass before Cas pulls out with a gross, wet noise.

The two of them groan, laugh, and seal the night with a kiss.

_

**CAS: 40; DEAN: 40**

Dean was right.  He wakes up in the morning with a killer hangover.  However, it’s almost worth it when he looks over to find Cas sleeping next to him, hand underneath his cheek and mouth open slightly.  Small snores sound from his throat, and Dean can’t help but smile.  The sheets rustle as Dean moves closer to him, draping an arm around Cas’ waist.  It doesn’t take much before Cas is blinking open an eye.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Dean says, grinning tiredly.

Cas replies with a yawn before croaking out, “Good morning.”

“You better be careful,” Dean remarks.  “Too much of last night will give you a sore throat.”

Though he looks absolutely exhausted, Cas manages to rack up enough energy to obnoxiously roll his eyes.

“You’re an idiot,” he says hoarsely.

Dean doesn’t reply, and the two of them fall into silence.  After a moment, Dean moves his hand, pressing it against the side of Cas’ face.  He smoothes his thumb across Cas’ cheek over and over again, and slowly, Cas reaches up to rest his hand against Dean’s wrist.  Dean leans in for a kiss, and Cas returns it with force. 

When they pull away, Cas bites his lip and stares at Dean with a thoughtful expression.

“What are you thinking about?” Dean asks, still smiling lazily.

Cas shakes his head.

“No, tell me,” Dean urges. 

“I’m – I’m thinking,” Cas starts.  “I’m thinking about fourteen years ago.  A night just like last.”

It takes a second for Dean to understand, and unfortunately when he does, the expression on his face gives away the terror that goes through him.  Cas doesn’t take it as terror, though.  He takes it as rejection.

“Dean – “

“Cas, it’s been fourteen years,” Dean says slowly.

“I know,” Cas says, quietly, “and I never once forgot.”

“I didn’t either,” Dean starts, “but I – I don’t know, Cas.”

Cas shifts his weight, pulling back slightly, and sliding Dean’s hand from his face.

“I do,” he says.  “We’re both forty.  We’re both single.  Neither of us is really settled down.”

“Cas – “ Dean sighs.

He doesn’t know why he’s so panicked all of the sudden, but he can’t – he can’t talk about this yet.  They’ve only been reacquainted mere weeks.  They have _years_ to catch up on, and Dean – Dean can’t be in a committed relationship right now.  Especially not with Cas.  There’s too much between them.

“Dean, what’s there to argue?” Cas asks, and honestly Dean can’t name anything specific.  He just knows it doesn’t feel right.  “We made this promise.  And fate has made it so we can keep it.”

Dean chooses his next words very carefully.  He doesn’t know where to begin, doesn’t know how to start telling Cas everything that’s running through his mind, but he has to start somewhere.

“I don’t believe in fate,” he says, and knows almost immediately that that was the wrong thing to say.

Cas blinks, just blinks, and then slowly, pulls himself out of Dean’s weak grasp.  “You don’t want to be with me.”  It isn’t a question.

“No, Cas,” Dean says quickly.  “Cas, that’s not – “

Cas shakes his head, and Dean can’t find the heart to continue.  “I get it,” he says quietly.  “I understand that you don’t feel that way anymore, Dean.  And that’s okay.  I can’t force you to feel anything.”

He starts to get up then, turning away from Dean and pushing himself into a sitting position.

“Cas, I don’t – we’ve changed so much – I don’t know how I feel – “

“Then let me save you the trouble,” Cas says, still without looking at Dean.  He jumps from the bed, landing on his feet and swaying just slightly.  Dean reaches out lamely, retracting his hand back when Cas starts putting on his clothes as quickly as he can.

“Cas,” Dean whispers, and he’s not pleading anymore.  He’s desperate.  It’s broken.

Cas turns, just enough to glance at Dean.  His eyes are red and glassy.

“Goodbye,” he say, then presses his lips together, almost like he’s holding a sob in. 

Dean watches him go without a word, without a single movement.  He wants to chase after Cas with everything in him, but it’s like a nightmare and he can’t get his body to move.  Or maybe that’s just what he tells himself.

_

**CAS: 40; DEAN: 40**

Dean calls.  He calls fourteen times that morning, ten times that night, and at least twice each day after that, though it’s always closer to five  (a few days it was seven; those were the bad days).  He drinks, too.  He goes right through what’s left from the party in a matter of a week and nearly sets a personal record.

Still, Cas never answers.

Dean leaves messages too – usually drunken and overly emotional.

Still, Cas never calls back.

Dean grows fearful after awhile, overwhelmingly afraid Cas will go back to his old ways.  He calls Anna, too, and she always tells him that Cas is okay.  He would believe her, too, if it wasn’t for how cold she sounds each time.

Two weeks after his birthday, Dean runs into Cas at the grocery store – well, more like he spies Cas across the aisle and hurriedly hides before they can make eye contact.  Three days later, he’s getting gas when he sees Cas walking along the sidewalk.  They’re awfully close to a clinic.  Dean wonders if Cas is seeing a therapist again.

A month after his birthday, Sam holds an intervention, pleading with Dean to go back to AA.  Dean point-blank refuses, but makes a promise to cut back just for Sam’s sake.  Same takes the deal for now, as long as he can come in and check on Dean regularly.

Five weeks after his birthday, Dean receives a call from Garth that breaks his heart even further.

“I just – I wanted to check in on you, because I hung out with Cas the other night, and he seemed – well, he seemed really down.  Like he used to be, you know.  I figured it was maybe the move.  New York can be daunting, but – “

“Wait, wait, wait,” Dean says.  “Back up, Garth.  _New York?”_

“He took a teaching job at NYU,” Garth explains.  “He was getting tired of Kansas State.”

“Shit,” Dean hisses.  “Shit.  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fucking shit.”

“Dean?” Garth asks tentatively.

“Garth, I can’t – I don’t – “

“He hasn’t left yet.”

Dean stops, lets that sink in a moment.  It gives him a second to assess the situation, to understand that his panicking isn’t completely warranted yet.  Fear, terror-lead anticipation – that’s warranted – but outright panic?  He’s pretty sure Cas has to be gone before he’s allowed to nosedive.

“When does he leave?” Dean asks, as soon as he can wrap the words around his tongue.

“In about three hours,” Garth replies, and Dean’s already forming a plan in his mind.

“Thanks, man.”

“Anytime.”

_

**CAS: 40; DEAN: 40**

Dean books it to the airport.  He floors the pedal several times, speeding his entire way.  He cuts the driving time in half, and parks haphazardly in the closest spot he can find.  He doesn’t care how much he’s charged.  A bus takes him to Terminal 2, and his leg shakes the entire time.  He doesn’t even sit down; he can’t.  He stays standing up and taps his foot and bounces his knee. 

He checks his watch as he dashes inside.  He’s got time, he reminds himself.  He’s got enough time to do this.

Garth told him Terminal 2, Gate 37.  He’s in Terminal 2, and he just has to find Gate 37.  Signs inside the door tell him that 30-40 are off to the left, and he immediately tears that direction without thinking about it.  The route is long, dodging past families and couples, hopping over luggage and squeezing through gaps in the crowd, but he keeps trucking.  He sprints up an escalator and comes to a split in the numbers.  

Gates 30-34 keep going straight.  Thirty-five through forty are off to the right.  Dean takes only a second to catch his breath before he’s running again.

Down five different hallways, past more tourists and over luggage he comes face to face with more signs.  A growl of frustration bubbles in his chest, but he pushes it back.  Thirty-seven through forty are one more floor up, and Dean can’t locate a single escalator or elevator in the near vicinity.

Doubling over, he takes a second to breathe.  He’s losing oxygen at an alarming rate, and he can’t afford to pass out now.  His heart is currently pounding dangerously hard against his ribs, but he doesn’t care.  He still has a floor to climb, and according to his watch, he better bust his ass.  Cas has always been an early bird.

He rushes forward, looking around desperately for a way upstairs.  It takes awhile, but eventually he locates a set of stairs hidden behind a waiting area.  Urging his lungs to listen to him, he takes the stairs two at a time and throws himself onto the top level –

Right into security.

Defeat fills him to the core and he sinks to the ground, cursing himself for being so stupid.  He can’t get past security without a ticket, and he doesn’t have the time or money to buy one at this moment.

Collapsed to the floor, face in his hands, and hordes of people around him, Dean begins to cry silently.

The last fourteen years rush up to meet him, and he can’t hold it in anymore.  All he’s ever wanted was a future with Cas, and he threw it away do to insecurity.  Now, Cas is leaving again, and Dean doesn’t know if he’ll ever return.  It was five years last time, but this time Dean knows it’ll be much longer than that. 

And there’s nothing he can do.

“Sir?”

He doesn’t move. 

“Sir, are you okay?”

He doesn’t answer.

“Sir, do you need me to call someone?”

A hand lays itself on his shoulder, and flinches just slightly.

“Sir – “

“I’m fine – “ he says abruptly, standing up.  He’s louder than he intended, and several heads turn to stare at him, including the one just arriving in the security line.

All anger and frustration bleeds from Dean, and instead a small bit of relief nestles itself in his chest.  He doesn’t even realize it as his feet carry him across the room.  He walks right into the pole of the line divider and doesn’t care.  His lips are crashing against Cas’ and that’s all that matters.  Cas’ jacket, his hair, his skin – they’re underneath Dean’s fingertips and not in an airplane seat.

“Please don’t leave,” he begs, pulling back for just a second.  “God, Cas – “

“I won’t,” he says, shaking his head and leaning back in for another kiss.

Dean can’t help but smile.  “Well, that was easy.”  He laughs slightly, then turns back to seriousness.  “God, Cas, I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry.  I’ve been so stupid, and insecure, and acting like I’m still twenty-six and terrified of commitment.  But I want you, Cas.  I always have, and I always will.  I just want you here.  With me.  I want you.”

“I want you, too, Dean,” Cas replies, breath shaky.  “That’s all I want.  I was only going to leave because I thought there wasn’t anything here for me in Kansas.  I wanted a fresh start, but – “

“Don’t leave,” Dean says.

“I’m not,” Cas promises.  “I don’t need a fresh start if I have you.”

“Please stay.”

“I will.”

They kiss again, longer sweeter, arms wrapping tightly around each other.

“Forty years,” Dean sighs, pulling back.  “Forty years and we finally get it right.”


End file.
